


fruition

by poisonrationalitie



Series: Harry Potter Expanded Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 10th Century, Dark Ages, Early Middle Ages, Gen, Hogwarts Founders Era, House Elves, Hufflepuff Common Room, Middle Ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonrationalitie/pseuds/poisonrationalitie
Summary: It is nearly time for Helga to see if her years of hard work have paid off.
Series: Harry Potter Expanded Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1052105
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	fruition

**Author's Note:**

> For the December Bi-Monthly Pinata Club, Easy #1, Founders’ Era.  
> December Writing Club, Amber’s Attic, That’s Very Punk Rock of You, The Cramps: Write about one of the Founders.  
> Quarterly Event, Hogwarts Sticker Album, Hogwarts Portraits, 10. Godric Gryffindor - Write a fic set in the Founders’ Era.

“I am trying not to be nervous,” Helga said. “Nerves will get us nowhere, will they? But one always wonders about the future.” Hooby trotted alongside her, carrying a basket of baked treats in his skinny arms. He wore an embroidered pillowcase of black and yellow that she had left for him to find. His fellow house-elves wore similar uniforms (though she was careful not to use that word in their presence), the only variation being the colour outlining their crest, dependent on which Hogwarts House they served. 

“Mistress has no need to worry,” said Hooby, looking up at her with round eyes. “Hooby knows all the young witches and wizards will be very thankful.”

“Ah, so we hope.” Helga patted him thrice on the head. “Thank you, Hooby.”

“Hooby is happy to do anything to please his Mistress.”

It was still odd to think that two summers prior, the castle had not yet existed. She had seen every stone be put into place, enchanted the walls herself to ensure they did not crumble. The floorplan was Rowena’s invention, the defence systems Godric’s, the castle’s secrets Salazar’s, but she had done her best to breathe life into each and every room. She had ordered the making of stained-glass windows in some of the classrooms, and woven tapestries to warm the long corridors. She had charmed the commons to stay warm in Winter and cool in Summer. And that evening, a hundred students would be arriving to join the school. Her eldest son was included in that number, though he had already made his home in their chambers near to the Hufflepuff commons, along with her other children and dear Aldwine. 

She drew her wand from within her golden robes, and tapped out a careful melody on the barrels. It had been her husband who suggested the rhythm, and while memorable, she worried she would seem too full of herself to her students. At least it would encourage their remembering her name. The barrel opened, and she stepped inside, followed by Hooby. She relished the scent of damp earth, feeling as if she could have been in her garden in Gwynedd, pulling up food to make a stew for her newly beloved. The seeds she’d scattered along the little walkway were beginning to sprout, the grass shyly showing its face. They reached the common room in no time at all. In a few short hours, it would be filled with children of all different ages, from all different walks of life. Helga swallowed. She would have to do her best.

“Just on the table there, Hooby,” she said, waving her wand. The small amount of dirt they had walked in vanished. Beneath the mantle, a fire crackled cheerily. Tapestries decorated the room, helping to seal the warming charms Sunlight streamed in through the high, circular windows, covering the benches in dappled yellow light. Woven mats made of rushes covered the floor. Earlier that morning, she had spread herbs across the mats, so that it might stay sweet-smelling, even with so many bodies in one space. It was all just so, as she had envisioned. All that was left to do was to wait. That was the worst of it. 

Helga took a seat on one of the stools, which were arranged around the fireplace. Benches lined the walls, providing extra space if necessary. Godric had looked at her askew when she told them of her intention to provide so much seating - the floor had been good enough for him as a boy, he said, and it would be good enough for his students. Salazar similarly had purchased a grand chair for himself, and left the students to the rushes. Rowena was content to give them tables to stand at, where they might do their work. But Helga had seen in her own children how they liked to sit, how the floors could be cold, how they felt equal, all the same height or near enough, on the same footing. 

“Is there anything else, Mistress?” Hooby asked. Helga fingered one of her long plaits. 

“What if I am a poor teacher, Hooby? I won’t know them as I know my own. What if they miss their homes, or if they fight? What if they would rather be under Salazar, or Godric, or Rowena? What if they despise this, despise me, us?” She was not choosing those from long lineages, children of her friends’, she was not choosing those with sharp wits, or great courage. Children deserved to be loved, to be taught, regardless of who they were. She had not known who she was to be at eleven, nor seventeen, nor thirty. Still, she did not know who she would be in another decade. She was no seer. Helga folded her hands in her lap, twisting the band around her finger. She did not want them to feel lesser, for coming here instead of one of the other houses. They were more than ‘the rest’. 

“Mistress,” he said, and bowed. “Hooby has served four other wizards and witches in his life. Hooby knows they have been crueler than his Mistress, and yet they were still loved. And Hooby will help you, Mistress, wherever he can.” She shut her eyes, smiling, taking a deep breath. Hooby may have been just a house-elf, but he did not tell lies. Helga exhaled through her mouth. 

“Thank you, Hooby,” she said. Her stomach was beginning to ache. Part of her wished she was as brave as Godric. She opened her eyes, and cast a summoning spell. Her favourite goblet was quickly at hand. Hooby poured milk into the cup, and the taste reminded her of home. She now kept goats in a paddock adjacent to where Godric’s flying lessons would be taken, but they were not the same ones from her childhood, and their milk tasted different. Even as an adult, there was a longing for home that never quite went away. It made her all the more determined to make Hufflepuff House a place that could be home.

“If this endeavour fails, I am glad to have worked by your side for this time,” Helga said, sipping her milk.

“Hooby is honoured to work beside you, Mistress,” said the house-elf. “Hooby hopes he may work alongside his Mistress for the rest of his days.” She offered him her cup. He blinked up at her with large, round eyes, and took it gently in his long hands. “Thank you, Mistress.”

“Of course. Now let us see what comes of this.”


End file.
